


Clarity

by Hotspur



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Married Couple, clarity, i am just having too many Rome feels today, zedd - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotspur/pseuds/Hotspur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Portia is insane, why is she Brutus's clarity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having Roman history feels all day and this is the result if listening to "Clarity" by Zedd. It's my Mulder/Scully song, but it fits Brutus and Portia well. I know I should have called her by her Latin name but I didn't think about it. I marked this as teen because it does involve some talk about insanity and how it's affecting Portia, but that's not too big. Anyway, enjoy.

Clarity

The pain starts again. Porcia's hands reach up into her hair, pulling, trying to do anything to stop the things seeping into her mind. She needs to pull herself together, if just for Marcus's sake.

Why can't everything be normal. But then again what is normal. After Caesar's assassination, Brutus and Cassius had packed up their families and left for the country in the hopes that things would calm down, but everything was looking worse.

Porcia groans as a patch of hair comes out in her hand. She's felt terrible these past weeks. All the comfort she has is Marcus's arms and the security of his closeness. They've always been close, always been open to each other, until that March when Marcus had taken the known world into his hands. 

She's sitting in front of a painting of the story of Hector and Andromache now. She always seems to end up here, in front of this painting. She cries every time she looks at it, but she keeps it private. Marcus can't know. He knows she's strong. He can't see her such a mess.

Night falls and dinner goes by as usual, Marcus and Cassius arguing and the kids yelling at each other. Porcia can't hold onto the things in her mind any more and she slips away, hoping Marcus doesn't notice. 

She curls up in the corner of their bedroom, too tired to get into bed. She's crying, wondering if life is worth it any more. Every day she feels herself slipping away more, farther from reality, farther from Marcus and the baby. She's worried about the baby, any mother would be. Not even born and has a wanted father and an insane mother.

She knows people think she's insane. Her sister-in-law Junia is as polite as can be expected, but seemingly looks down at the family nutcase. Gailius, Cassius's son, asked Marcus whether Aunt Porcia were alright. 

"She's just not feeling well because she's pregnant," Marcus lied. He knew how distraught she was, he just didn't see it most of the time.

"Porcia?" 

Marcus walks into their bedroom. It's small, but neither mind. Porcia is still hiding in the corner, holding her stomach and trying to pull herself out of the darkness trying to engulf her. 

"Porcia, are you alright?" Marcus kneels down by her and holds out his hand to her. She takes it, feeling his pulse. It's one steady thing in a chaotic world.

"Yes," she lies. "I'm fine." 

Marcus notices that another clump of hair has come out. He pushes a bit of her dark, pretty hair out of her face, examining her features. 

"Come here," he says, opening his arms and she does, curling up in the shelter of his warmth and strong arms. He's always had the best hug in the world. He kisses her tears away, gently rocking her until she calms down. 

"I'm afraid," she admits, her head tucked on his chest under his chin.

"Don't be," he says.

"I can't," she replies. He lays a hand on her stomach, where their baby sleeps oblivious to the sins of the father. Marcus's hand trails down her hip to her thigh, the one she had cut to prove to him that she was not weak, that she could stand whatever was driving him to distraction. 

"I'm going crazy," she says, closing her eyes. "I'm nuts. I can't stop crying, my head hurts, I'm hearing things that aren't there." 

"You'll be fine, my love," he says, squeezing her in another hug. 

"I can't sleep," she says. "I can't even close my eyes. And if you get up I'm afraid you're not coming back to bed." 

"I know," Marcus says, seriously but gently. "I'll be right beside you all night, I promise. I'll keep you safe."

There's a moment of quiet. Marcus leans back against the wall, bringing Porcia with him. She rests her head on his chest, his hand on her stomach and her hand over his. She's been limping, he's seen. The fever and chills she suffered after her injury had subsided, but her leg was still tender, the wound, though dressed, still raw. He knew the ugly gash in her thigh, deep and long, and he only touched it with the greatest gentleness. 

She knew, without knowing, what he was up to when she begged him to tell her what was wrong. Questions of assassination plagued him and he couldn't tell her anything. She soon was told and she hadn't said anything, but had simply promised him she would never betray him.

Porcia is smarter than him, he knows. She's kinder, the better one than he. And yet she thinks she is unworthy of him half the time. 

He's been gently stroking the soft linen of her stola that falls over her leg. In her state of half-sleep she whimpers, and he stops. He feels her convulse, shaking and jerked awake. 

"It hurts," she mumbles into his shoulder.

"I know," he says, in full honesty. He knows when she is in pain, where all her scars are underneath the clothes of a proper Roman lady. It's part of being married, of being in love. Marcus loves Porcia, he has loved her ever since she was his little cousin, climbing trees and reading books. When she was scared as a child, she'd crawl into bed with him and he'd keep her safe. She kept him safe, in truth. 

Porcia is slipping from him, her bright eyes dulled by internal conflict and whatever it is- the noises, the daily fear, the sickness racking her petite form. She's shouting at nothing, tearing at her hair, dropping things, and withdrawing from reality, turning to her books and her fears. She sees an end looming and is in constant fear that is what's happening. 

Their love is tragic, it seems to Marcus. He finally has the woman he has always loved and that has always loved him, and they're torn apart by these nightmares, real and imaginary. They seem to be the remedy for each other. It's insanity, Porcia's growing instability and the uncertain desperation in Marcus. But Porcia is the clarity in his life. He loves her, and now, for these moments, that's all that matters.


End file.
